All language subtitles for Hamish Macbeth s01e01 The Great Lochdubh Salt Robbery.eng

(Dog barking)

I've got two fine fish here!

Ach, Hamish, man,

I thought for a minute there,
I had mysel' a poacher.

- I fancied I saw lights.
- Hush, Wee Jock!

Have you somebody away in the van?
Lady friend maybe?

No, no, no, Mr Clunie,
it's only Wee Jock.

- (Dog barking)
- Aye, that'll be it.

- (Quietly) Come on, Macbeth!
- (Hamish) Lights?

Probably my imagination. They poachers
have got me knocked fair stupid.

- Ah, they're a scourge, eh, Mr Clunie?
- (Dog barks)

Angus, come here, ya big eejit!

By the by, did I mention Miss Alexandra's
coming up for a few days?

Oh, come on, Macbeth!

- Come on! Go, go, go!
- You simmer down.

- I'm fine, I'm fine.
- (Machine clicks and bleeps)

- Er, Barney...
- (One-armed bandit bleeps musically)

Agnes.

- (Whispers) Any luck?
- It's hardly a matter of luck.

It's a matter of pure skill.

Here, I've got a couple of
really nice ones outside.

- �30 secures the pair of 'em.
- Done.

- (Bleeping)
- Here, it's on the house.

- Hey, shorty, shut that racket up.
- I'm not making a racket, the machine is.

- You're pressing the buttons. Cut it out.
- Hey, no rowing.

Look, you big eejit,
the loudest things in here right now

are that jumper
and that shirt you're wearing

so why don't you piss off,
find yourself a sympathetic tailor

and get yourself straightened out?

- (Agnes) Barney!
- (Girl screaming)

Can you not see he's only a bairn?

Let go or you'll feel it next.

Right, Barney, you run across
and get Macbeth over here.

I'll keep Mr Robb occupied
in the meantime.

Wait. There's no need to involve
the police in this.

- Another time, McIver!
- Aye.

And you just watch your mouth, boy!
Just watch!

Get up. Come on.

I was just about to smack him there,
TV John. You should've let me take him.

Put something cold on the boy's eye,
Agnes.

I'll go and get you that wee message.

Two wee messages.

(Slams car door, starts car,
screeches away)

- So who started it?
- Big Geordie Robb.

And finished it.

Young Soutar'll have some face on him,
I can tell you.

You can look now.

Yon Robb's even worse than his father
was and that's saying something.

- I'll talk to him in the morning.
- You can't.

He was heading off to Inverness
on a week's golfing holiday.

Well, I'll talk to him
when he gets back, then.

How's the book?

It's all right, actually.

She's coming up.

Oh... really?

- Rory.
- Hamish.

- My God! That much?
- Aye.

- But, er... what about this EEC business?
- The EEC?

Behave yourself, boy. Now, listen.
We are entrepreneurs, Lachie Junior.

What care we for the EEC?

- Barney.
- Hamish.

- Hi, Agnes.
- Hello, Hamish.

Jock, sit.

- The usual, Hamish?
- Aye.

Fancy some solids wi' your beer?
I've a very nice salmon p�t� on the go.

Well, maybe just a wee nibble, Barney.

What's going on over there, I wonder?

The wheels of commerce
never stop turning, Hamish.

- Good morning, Alice. Ciamar a tha thu?
- I'm fine.

Well, as you can see, the firm of
McCrae & Son are raring to go.

You know what's required.
I'll let you get on wi' it.

I was wondering, is there any chance
Big Geordie might give us a hand?

My son's no' back frae the golf,
but Whisky Bob's there if you want him.

Whisky Bob'll do fine.

You're dealing with a can-do company
in McCrae & Son, you know, Alice.

Drive on, Lachie Junior.

No Big Geordie Robb. Better and better.
Onwards and upwards, son.

(Groans in pain)

- Let me get Dr Brown in to see you.
- No!

He'll know.
As soon as he sees, he'll know.

- I heard a lorry.
- It's the McCraes.

(Whispers) Dad. Hey.

There's a light on.
We can't do it with a light on.

Right.

This... This requires a bit more nerve,
all right?

- All you all right? Right.
- Yeah.

Stockings.

Stockings.

No! Stockings! Women's stockings!
Tights, for God's sake!

I'm not buying women's tights!
What would people think?

What sick images would flash
through their brains?

Gimme them here! You take that one.

- Is there holes in them?
- Yeah.

- Gimme the jemmy. Give me the jemmy!
- OK, OK.

Right off.

Shh! Shh!

(Jacuzzi bubbles loudly)

- (Knock at door)
- (Woman) Rory, is everything all right?

Everything's just fine, dear one.
I'll be with you in a jiff.

- (Metal clattering)
- Shhh!

- (Father whispers) Lachie!
- What?

We've cracked it, boy!

(Water draining away)

- There you are. I wasn't too long, was I?
- No.

You smell awful nice, Rory.

That'll be my Chanel.
It's called Pour Homme.

And now, Esme...

some mood music.

(Lively Scottish folk dance music)

- (Music blares out over speakers)
- (Screams)

- (Lachie) Ahhhhh!
- Shut up!

It's only bloody music!

Rory Campbell's got this place wired up
like a bloody hypermarket! Take that.

Hamish Macbeth,
calling Hamish Macbeth.

This is TV John McIver
calling Hamish Macbeth. Over.

I know who it is, John.
What do you want?

Go and see the man
at the Lochdubh General Stores. Over.

See Rory about what?

So help me, this'll have you baffled.

A burglary's one thing,
but this makes no sense at all.

This must've made some kind of noise
when it was forced, Rory.

You sure you heard nothing?

I sleep like a bairn and I had an earful
of fiddle music before I turned in.

That's a state-of-the-art sound system.
You'll hear nothing above that.

- Touch anything?
- Nothing. That's the funny thing.

Neither did whoever robbed me,
except for half a hundredweight of salt.

- And that's it? Nothing else?
- Nothing.

As you see,
there's whisky and all sorts here. It's...

- Baffling.
- Baffling.

What would anybody want
with that amount of salt?

Baffling. Well, I suppose
I should check for dabs.

No, no, no, I've got a business to run.
I need access to my stock.

I only called you in to make it formal.
For the insurance.

- There's the damage to the back door.
- I'll just batter a couple of nails in there.

I'll mebbe hit the insurance
for a couple of extras.

Couple of crates of whisky, say,
and mebbe some fags.

- Enough to cover the damage.
- Aye.

Well, I'll keep me ears open anyway.
A crime's a crime and all that, Rory.

Well, you please yourself, Hamish.
I'll see you out, shall I?

Darling, I'll just see if they've got a
number two Jeremy Fisher or whatever.

(Turns off engine)

It's Alexandra Maclean, Hamish.

Aye, I can see that.

- Hello, Hamish.
- Alexandra.

Heard you were coming home.

- Only for a few days.
- Of course.

Nice car.

Isn't it, though?
Belongs to my publisher.

- He's come up with me.
- Has he? That's nice.

Morning, sir. Lovely car.

Thank you.
Would you like to toot the horn?

(Laughs) Where are my manners?
I haven't introduced you two.

Peter Peterson, this is Hamish Macbeth.

Hamish... Macbeth?

That's right, sir.

- What a super name.
- Look, we'd better get going.

- Have to pick up a few odds and ends.
- Of course.

Have a nice day, now, sir.

Hamish Macbeth! I don't believe it!
I thought you were winding me up!

Too good to be true! Hamish Macbeth!
(Laughs)

(Lorry beeps horn)

Thanks again.

- Hamish, man.
- Doc.

Mm-mm-mmm!

Yeah, belongs to a Mr Peterson.

Friend of Miss Maclean's.
He also thinks I've got a funny name.

Oh, dear.

- It's only St Bruno, Hamish.
- Aye.

I could do with lift to the Fish & Game
Company. I've a house call to make.

- Who's sick?
- Lucy Robb. Fell off a fork-lift last night.

I've been meaning
to have a word with Big Geordie.

Morning, Whisky Bob.

- You say this happened last night?
- That's right.

Look... I don't want a fuss, just some
painkillers until the worst of it passes.

Passes.

I think you've a couple of cracked ribs.

I want you to have an X-ray
just to be on the safe side

and a couple of days in the infirmary
with proper medical attention.

Doctor, I don't think
that's really necessary.

But I think it is, Lucy.

Is your husband about?

Can you tell me
when your son does come back, Alice?

I will, but you know Big Geordie Robb,
Hamish.

He's probably shacked up with some tart
and we need him here.

I'm all but useless with my leg.
Lucy can barely move.

And Whisky Bob,
well, he's a good man when he's sober,

but that's a rarer sight
than Halley's Comet.

Aye. Would you mind if I stepped across
and had a word with the McCraes?

- Not at all. You get on wi' it.
- Thanks.

Half a hundredweight of salt?

And nothing else was touched?

You must be baffled,
Hamish boy, baffled.

He'll not be baffled for long
if I know Hamish.

He'll have the pair of rascals banged up
before you can say "peas".

The pair of them? What makes you think
there was two, Lachie?

Is it no wonder I'm proud of that boy?
That's nimble thinking, that.

To deduce that it must have taken
more than one man to shift all that salt.

- That is quick thinking.
- There could have been three, Lachlan.

- Mebbe even four.
- I think you're just nit-picking there.

He just made an observation. You don't
expect him to solve the whole case?

You're probably right.
If you hear anything, let me know.

- No problem, Hamish.
- Straight away, Hamish.

That's, er... That's right dandy footwear
you're wearing there.

Do you like them?

Yes. Er... Big Geordie Robb
got himself a new pair.

His wife Lucy tossed these over to yours
truly. Yes, it's good-quality leather, that.

- How was your patient?
- She was telling lies.

- How is it?
- Salty.

Right, start dumping them in.
Mind your fingers, though.

So...

how long is she home for, then,
Alexandra?

- It's just a holiday, Doc.
- Ah.

(Inhales deeply)

Yowzer!

Have you read her book?

It's not going to make her a millionaire
or anything.

Too full of big ideas and big words
for that, but it's good.

Always accepting, of course, you credit
the short story as a valid literary form.

And there's the post-structuralist debate
about the value of literature per se.

What is the function of the writer
and of the text?

Are the two interrelated or, in fact,
do they stand separately?

Divorced, as it were,
or indeed to take it further...

(TV John) Macbeth?

Macbeth?

- Hamish.
- Wha... What is it?

God, John.

- What time is it?
- It's just after six.

- Have you had anything to eat?
- No.

Elbows.

- Well?
- Lovely.

It's just a wee crab consomm�
I boiled up at home.

- God, I'm thirsty.
- Aye, so I see.

Young Doc Brown's been here, I take it.

Aye.

- Anybody call when I was sleeping?
- No.

No calls.

I said, "Look, Julian, we can cooperate
on this..." Thank you, dear.

- "...or we can be rivals."
- Constable Macbeth, sir.

Thank you, Malkie.
Hamish! Some hospitality, please.

No, I'm fine, thanks... er... There's been
a burglary at the general store, Major.

- A half hundredweight of salt was taken.
- Salt? Well, well, well.

- Who would've thought that, eh?
- Yes, sir.

So I'm just warning everyone just in case
the thieves try to pass on the goods.

I'd appreciate it if you'd warn your staff.

So, Constable,
you're hot on the trail of a salt... seller!

- (Alex) Peter.
- Your friend is just favouring us

with some metropolitan wit, Alex.

- Wasn't that witty, Hamish?
- Effervescent, Major.

- Did you get my ticket, Mr Peterson?
- Oh, er... yes. I've had the repair done.

I told Peter the car was probably
damaged by some envious adolescent.

- Envious and persistent, it would seem.
- What do you mean?

Wullie's smashed the other light.
Noticed it on the way in. Evening, Major.

Take it.

I can't believe it.
How much have we made?

Plenty. And we'll make plenty more
when we get over to Cnothan.

There's a whole untapped market
over there, boy.

Right... take us over the Devil's Humph.

- We'll save half an hour then.
- The Devil's Humph?!

You can barely get three sheep
walking abreast on that road.

Look, I want time for my pint
at the conclusion of business.

You know me, boy.

(Gears crunch)

Talk about the wages of fear.
This is murder.

Don't talk rubbish, man.

- Stop the car!
- What is it?

- Just stop the damn car!
- But... What is it?

- That's Big Geordie's car.
- I know.

Where's Big Geordie?

Reverse back to Lochdubh, Lachie,
and get Hamish.

Just do it, boy!

- Morning, sir.
- Who are you?

- Macbeth, sir, local man.
- You don't sound local.

My folks moved to Glasgow. I joined the
forces and eventually moved back here.

Couldnae resist the call of the wild, eh?
Detective Inspector Bruce.

- This is DS Sandra McDonald.
- What do we know?

The car belonged to a Mr George Robb.

He left home on a golf trip a week ago,
stopped off at the Lochdubh Hotel.

- Last time he was seen.
- Nobody reported him missing?

No. Well, Big Geordie, Mr Robb, he was
the waver type. Frequently disappeared.

- A married man?
- Aye.

And when he disappeared, it was with
women, maybe other people's women?

- Absolutely, sir.
- So he'd enemies, then?

He wisnae a popular man, no.

It could be that he injured hisself here
and wandered off.

I haven't the resources
to mount a search.

No, you did the right thing calling us,
Constable.

Signs of blood in the back, sir.

Sir, Mr Robb and his family own
the Lochdubh Fish & Game Company.

This car was often used
to carry carcasses or meat.

So it could be days before we establish
if there's human blood in there.

So...

I don't know if I'm dealing with foul play
or a missing person.

Assume he's missing. Usual appeals in
the media with a description and photo.

Oh, aye, you'd better put in a request
for mair men.

I've arranged for you to meet a few
of the locals in the Lochdubh Hotel.

- Some of the ones that last seen him.
- Very efficient, Constable.

Oh, thank you. I also noticed
that the car clock is stopped at 2.20.

If it was working beforehand, we know
the exact time of whatever happened.

Very efficient.

(Chatter)

- Listen here, now.
- (Silence)

The big boys from Inverness are coming.

Hamish says no taking the piss
and no dumb country yokel acts.

(Groans of disappointment)

(Sniffs)

What's that smell?
It's like boiled fish or something.

I expect that's the staple diet
around here, sir.

(Sniffs)

- So... what's your name?
- Er, TV John McIver, sir.

TV? Is that for Thomas Victor
or something?

No, TV's short for television, sir.

I was the first man in Lochdubh
to have a set.

A wee 14-inch Pye.
Naturally enough, the name stuck.

Aye, I remember when you managed
to get your aerial up, John.

- Oh, aye, just seems like yesterday, boy.
- (Murmurs of agreement)

- My, tempus fairly fugits, eh?
- (All) Aye.

(Rattling)

- That's Whisky Bob.
- Nae mystery about that name!

(Whisky Bob pants and splutters)

- Whisky, Whisky?
- Whisky.

Whisky for Whisky.

Here... stick one of these in it.

Well, TV John,
what can you tell me about Mr Robb?

Well, it's just as Barney said.

Big Geordie gave young Jimmy there
a smack and then he left the hotel.

Then, when I went out to the car park
to... get a wee message,

I saw Big Geordie doing something
at his car.

- What?
- He seemed to be looking for something.

He was angry at not finding it,
then he drove off.

- That was it.
- And you're sure about Robb's clothes?

A blue woollen diamond jumper
and a lemon shirt.

Positive. I mean, who else but a golfer
would dress like that?

Everybody's agreed that Robb left
for Inverness at 9:30.

It couldnae take him five hours
to drive to the crash site.

Half-hour at most, sir. Must've left here,
then went somewhere else first.

Mebbe took a short cut over the Humph
to make up for lost time.

Aye. But where?

(Hamish) She's, er... pretty young
for a DS - Miss McDonald.

Young? That's as old as the hills, son.
Just oozing with ambition.

Mark my words,
that's no' long for Inverness, no, sir.

It'll be the bright lights of Perth and
Dundee for Ms Sandra McDonald.

- So, er... what are you up to, then?
- Investigating a burglary, sir.

Aye, well, on you go.
We'll complete this search here.

You could check out the young lad's
alibi. Er... Jimmy Soutar, is it?

Just in case Mr Robb turns up dead, eh?

Hamish Macbeth,
I tried to call you earlier.

Look at this. It's the strangest thing.
It was shoved through my letterbox.

Read it.

And have a look at the PS.

(Glass smashing)

(Glass smashing)

(Dogs barking)

(Vehicle approaching)

Dad! Dad!

(Dogs barking)

- It's no' a bad afternoon, Hamish.
- No' bad, my arse. You're nicked.

What are you talking about, boy?

"Here is the cash for the salt we took.

"Sorry we were inconvenient to you.
We'd a wee cash-flow problem.

- "PS..."
- PS?

"If you need a new back door,
see Dan McDonald.

"He'll do you a big thick door
for �52.50 plus VAT."

Now, Dan made one door at that price
in the last three years and, guess what,

that's right, he made it for you two.

- (McCrae Senior) Uh-huh.
- Lachlan McCrae Junior,

- I am arresting you under Section 2...
- Hamish!

Hamish, er... look, why... why
don't we talk about this, huh?

Well, you can give me the full story and
the judge might look favourably on that.

Certainly. Certainly, aye,
we'll cough the lot, boy. Come on.

You, come here.

Lobsters.

We had to change their water
so we had to have the salt.

- I take it these are stolen?
- Yes...

Not exactly. We were asked to dump
them by the Fish & Game Company.

Whisky Bob gave them the wrong feed.
EEC regulations.

They looked all right to me so we set up
shop, saw a little niche in the market.

- Who bought them?
- Nearly everyone in Lochdubh, Cnothan.

- You might've poisoned the region!
- We've eaten...

No, no, what about long-term effects?
Thought about that?

In six months, we could have...
women with whiskers, men with breasts!

- Breasts?
- Breasts.

You never said we'd grow breasts!
I'm still a young man!

Then you won't mind asking for tights.

So... er... what's our next move, Hamish?

Say nothing just now. We could have
a mass panic on our hands here.

Maybe even a lynch mob.

I'll, er... I'll be sending these to Inverness
for analysis.

(Gasps)

(Wee Jock growls)

Well, well, Mr Peterson,
thought you'd never get here.

Outside! Or do you intend
hiding behind that uniform?

What uniform?

I don't know what this is all about,
but you're making a mistake.

A mistake? He's making the mistake.
I was a boxing blue at university.

A boxing blue? Well, my, my.

- Tremble, tremble.
- Out.

(Crunch)

- Mr McIver, how are you, if I may ask?
- Of course you may.

I'm perfectly fine, Major.

- And your good self?
- Oh, you know.

Isn't that my guest? He's not dead?

No, no. He was bobbing
when he should have been weaving.

- Is there somewhere I could park him?
- You can put him there if you like.

What happened?

It was Macbeth.

It was Macbeth, wasn't it?

Hello.

I thought you might like to know
how Peter is.

Had Dr Brown take a look at him
and there's no lasting damage.

- He started it.
- You any idea what you sound like?

Like a bloody nine-year-old
in the school playground.

- You provoked him. You've been...
- I provoked him? Wait a minute!

He came for me!
He paraded about as if he owned you!

Don't talk about me
as if I was some prize to be fought for!

Don't.

God, what did I ever see in you?

- You're a bloody... Neanderthal.
- Aye, well mebbe that was it, eh?

- A bit of rough to tell your pals about...
- I can't believe I heard that.

How could you say that?

Well, how no'?

What am I meant to think? One minute
we're perfectly happy, the next you're off.

- I have to earn a living. I explained...
- That's crap. I make a living.

I could... I could support you

till you... just till you make your mark.

And if I never make my mark?

Alex, this is a good place.

Good people.

What more could you want?

Don't tell me you want the city.

These places just grind you down,
just chew you up and spit you out.

But if we were together. We could...

Alex, Alex, you're no' listening me.
I cannae go back to that.

I'm happy here.

I could never leave.

What would I be?

Look, you're just angry at me
for what I did to your pal.

Tell me you don't care for me and I swear
to God I will never bother you ever again.

Can you tell me that?

Can you tell me that?

- What?
- I'm sorry.

I am sorry. I'm sorry!

Did I miss something off the list?

No, no... um...

I was just wondering
why there was no shoes. No golf shoes.

You think that's what he was killed for?
His shoes?

Look, Bruce has got us combing the hills
for a missing person.

It's a complete waste of time. There's
a killer out there. I'd like to catch him.

You could make the job so much easier.

- Oh, really?
- Sure. With your local knowledge.

We should work together on this,
Hamish.

Oh, do you, Sandra?

Well, I must say, I'm, er... I'm flattered...

and I'm sure
there's a lot you can teach me.

- (Door opens)
- Hamish?

(Sniffs) Ugh.

Man, that's cheap scent. Who was she?

McDonald.

And what was wrong with your bed?

Didnae have the heart
to disturb Wee Jock.

What's that?

I don't know.
It was in the machine when I came in.

Now, why would a detective sergeant lie
down with a police constable, I wonder?

Eh? Hamish?

I thought I'd need somewhere to dump
the credit if my guess was proved right.

If I start solving murders, the powers that
be might think I've outgrown Lochdubh.

- Bruce would have me back in Glasgow.
- Murders? What are you talking about?

I want you to find McDonald, John.
Make sure she sees that, OK?

- Alice.
- Hello, Hamish.

I was wondering if I might have
a look in Geordie's wardrobe.

Why do you suppose
he never took them, Alice?

He's not likely to have forgotten
his new shoes, is he?

It was Lucy packed for him.
She always packed for him.

She must have forgot.

Lucy.

Aye, well, that explains it.

It was just nagging at me, you know.

Aye.

(Jock barks)

Ah, Jock, how can people
no' be like wee dogs, eh?

Simple, uncomplicated.

What's wrong? What's going on here?

I'm detaining you under Section 2 of the
Criminal Justice Act of Scotland of 1980.

I suspect you've committed an offence
punishable by imprisonment - murder.

- We'll be speaking to Alice, as well, Bob.
- No, no.

I'm the man you're looking for.

I killed Geordie Robb.

He came back that night
and started on Lucy.

I couldnae stand by and watch that.
I killed him.

Hamish, Alice has something to say.

I killed my son, not Bob.

Alice...

Forgot his golf shoes and came back for
them. He was in a black mood, as usual.

He took it out on Lucy.
Just as his father had done with me.

He said Lucy should've checked his bag
before he left.

(Woman crying out, man shouting)

(Alice) I thought he would surely kill her
this time.

- (Woman crying out)
- Alice, Alice, come on.

- (Woman screaming)
- I told you!

No!

But when he fell, he hit the fork-lift.

I asked Bob to get rid of the car,
but that's all he did.

Bob and Lucy are innocent. I'm the one.

I gave that boy life and I took it away.

He was such a big lump of a man.

How did you find out, Hamish?

The McCraes didnae dump the lobsters.
They've sold them all over the district.

I thought they might've been poisoned.
I took a couple for analysis and they fo...

They found bits of blue and lemon wool
in the guts.

Robb wore it the night he disappeared.
I saw the fax and made the connection.

Do you mean...
people have been eating Big Geordie?

Seems like it.

It's a wonder they didnae choke.

Well done, McDonald.
This'll be your ticket out of Inverness.

Thank you, sir.

Well... what can I say?

- What do you think'll happen to her?
- Probation probably.

If it was up to me,
I'd let her go right now.

Goodbye, Constable.

You never know.
You might be back this way sometime.

(Car horn blares)

- What's all this?
- They're buying laxatives.

- That Rory Campbell's making a fortune.
- Laxatives? For what?

Oh, to get rid of the lobsters
and Big Geordie!

Serves 'em right.

- Hamish...
- Aye?

Do you remember that crab consomm�
I gave you?

Aye.

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